ECHOES FROM THE LOST DAYS - vitriol

the words come tumbling out
faster than fast, headed south
barely able to control what utterances pass my lips
try to navigate where my head's gone, how many klicks
follow the sound of the constant chatter
the perpetual buzz that persists through each chapter
a constant static haze hissing deeply in my skull
and when i close my eyes i can see it all
i can see the sky moments before it begins to fall
the light blue and the stark white of clouds
everything slowly goes dark as the black begins to claw its way in
the clouds are the first to go, becoming darker than night
oozing down viscous black fluid, filling the streets with fright
and as the sky itself loses it's blue
everything else becomes a much darker hue
the atmosphere becomes thick as it melts
thoroughly coats the skin in its inky darkness
a deep rumbling sets through the cloying
the vile sky tar feels as if its clawing
the very air itself is smothering
squeezing the breath from your lungs
you try to escape, but don't even pass the ladder's first rung
and then without warning, everything inverts
spine hits the ceiling, chest about to burst
try to pick yourself up but the vitriolic tar keeps you firmly in place
the clawing, itching feeling grows far deeper
thousands of tiny needles trying to force their way from your skin
maggots writhing in your skull
jagged, crisscrossed, mismatched lines cover your vision
the lines grow bolder
everything is black now
the tar has spread across your body
butterflies
in the darkened distance there are butterflies
wings lightly flapping, devouring the remnants of light
and once the light is gone they ignite
soaring through the endless black like a firelight
and once they die, they fall into the ooze
sinking beneath the surface, they have nothing left to lose
bricks and stones hammer through bones
twisted tourniquet knots tied to the tower
at the top of which grows a single flower
a bright color, a juxtaposition to the gloom
almost a white wedding gown, yet there is no groom
everything shatters in a dull gray powder
the rumbling has grown ever louder
the oppressive air, without warning, ceases
and it's right back to how it used to be